


Day 7 - AU

by GemmaRose



Series: Megarod Week [7]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Family Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: Nyon is wonderful, the Acroplex the home he was never allowed to truly have as a mechling, but Hot Rod would trade it for the cold dark of Kaon's underground in an instant.
Relationships: Hot Rod/Megatron (Transformers)
Series: Megarod Week [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972465
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22
Collections: Megarod Week





	Day 7 - AU

_”Please, Hot Rod. I don’t want you to be caught up in the fighting, should something go wrong.”_

Hot Rod huffed a quiet laugh, striding into the Acroplex’s dilapidated creche. Nyon was, as his conjunx had promised, safely out of the way of the blooming Decepticon rebellion. It was also no longer the site of a Kesson Sparkling Agency complex, which made it doubly safe by Megatron and Soundwave’s reckoning. That didn’t mean it was peaceful. “Wheeere’s my bitty?” he cooed, poking his helm through the tattered tarp curtain which blocked off the sparklings’ playspace. Matchbox’s tiny, nubby little spoiler flicked up in excitement, and the crechekeeper gave him a warm smile as he stepped fully into the room.

“They’ve been a very good bean today.” the elderly mech informed him. “Hardly fussed at all when it was time for naps.”

“Is that so?” Hot Rod grinned, stooping to scoop Matchbox up off the floor and press a kiss to his perfect little nose. He would have his sire’s handsome face when he grew up, of that Hot Rod had no doubt. “Were you a good bean?”

“Yes!” Matchbox chirped, grabbing onto the top of his chestplate.

“Thank you for watching him, Copperbolt.” Hot Rod bowed shallowly, doing his best not to tip Matchbox too far.

“I should be the one thanking you, Hot Rod.” the old mech laughed, optics sliding from Hot Rod back to the sparklings on the floor in front of him, playing some game with coloured blocks. “We’ve fuel enough for the little ones, now that you’re leading the insurgency. Watching over your sparkling is the least I can do.”

“Still, thank you.” Hot Rod bowed again. He’d had this argument enough times to know he wouldn’t win it, and while normally he didn’t mind trying again, tonight they had somewhere to be. “C’mon, Matchbox.” he cradled his sparkling close, pitching his engine to a comforting purr. “Your sire promised he’d call tonight.”

“Sa!” Matchbox leaned away from Hot Rod’s chestplate, bapping his little hands on the scuffed metal. “Sa-u!”

“Your sire, yes.” Hot Rod smiled, slipping out of the creche and into the hall. Back home, Matchbox would have whined and cuddled close when they stepped out, but here he stayed alert, twisting as they walked to stare at ancient carvings obscured under age upon age of grime. Hot Rod wanted to attribute it to the atmosphere, the warmth drawn up from deep mining tunnels which permeated the Acroplex, but in his spark he knew it was more than that. Nyon was hardly a peaceful city, but its threats were all of the sort that Hot Rod knew how to handle. A mech laid hand on him, he planted a fist in their face, or sometimes a gout of fire, or maybe a pede to their codpiece if he could get the distance he needed for a good kick. The scum of Nyon were in even worse shape than the general populace, and unlike the heavily armoured Decepticons he lived with back home, these were mechs he could fight and defeat.

If he was honest with himself, despite the distance from his conjunx, he was more at ease in the halls of the Acroplex than he had been anywhere since... since he was sneaking out of the facility he grew up in to visit the Acroplex, actually. That was kinda sad if he thought about it too hard.

“Ca’ee?” Matchbox reached up to bap his cheek, and when Hot Rod looked down his sparkling reached up both hands to smoosh his cheeks upwards, tiny field pulsing with determination.

“Thanks, Matchbox.” Hot Rod smiled, bending his helm to kiss his sparking between the optics, making Matchbox giggle. “C’mon, let’s get back to our room so Sire can call us.”

“Sa-u!” Matchbox beamed, bapping his hands against Hot Rod’s chestplate again. Hot Rod picked up his pace just slightly, nodding to mechs as he passed them. Slinger and Riot stopped to coo over Matchbox for a moment, Telltale waved back as he escorted one of the lorekeepers somewhere, Hot Rod swore he even caught a glimpse of Nosoko tucked in one of the half-collapsed hallways, seeing to someone’s injuries. It was nothing on the bustle back home, but Hot Rod liked it. Matchbox kept drumming his hands on Hot Rod’s chestplate, babbling excitedly, and once they were back in their room Hot Rod tossed his sparkling gently onto the berth.

Matchbox had already pushed himself upright again by the time Hot Rod fetched the external comm pad Megatron had given him when he dropped them off here, and as soon as Hot Rod sat down he had a lapful of squirmy, excited sparkling. He turned on the pad, and immediately the screen filled with Megatron’s face, prompting Matchbox to squeal and reach for it, his tiny hands patting all over the display.

“I see I’ve been missed.” Megatron smiled. He looked tired.

“Sa-u!” Matchbox squealed, waving their hands when Hot Rod shifted the pad out of their reach. “Was good bean!”

“Crechekeeper Copperbolt said they napped without any fuss.” Hot Rod reported, drawing Matchbox snug against his middle. Megatron’s smile warmed, some of the exhaustion leaving his optics as he stared at their sparkling. “How are things on your end?”

“Busy.” he sighed. “We’re making progress, Starscream is proving himself useful for once.”

“It’s hardly his fault we’re not in a position to make use of his skills.” Hot Rod reminded his conjunx. “He may be aggravating, but-”

“But he’s a canny mech with many talents. I’m aware, Hot Rod.” Megatron frowned sternly. Only for a moment though before his shoulders slumped and a heavy sigh escaped him. “Can we not talk about work?”

“Of course.” Hot Rod acquiesced. He could always get the intel he wanted from Starscream later. Soundwave way too loyal to go behind Megatron’s back, but his fellow ex-Kessonite was far less inclined to follow rules without good reason. “There’s not much to report on my end, though.”

“Oh?” Megatron raised an optic ridge. “You’ve no funny stories from your work shift?”

Hot Rod swept his spoiler down and back, tucking the scuffed panels and bent corner out of the camera’s visual range. “Nothing that would be worth retelling.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed, mouth pressing into a thin line as those lovely crimson optics flicked over his frame. “You’re hurt.”

“I sideswiped a wall.” Hot Rod sighed. “It’s nothing, you needn’t worry about it.”

“And how did such a skilled driver as yourself swipe a wall badly enough to bend your spoiler?” Megatron asked, brows furrowed and mouth set in a displeased little curl. Hot Rod didn’t need to feel his field to know his conjunx suspected something was amiss. Which, well, Hot Rod hadn’t actually told him yet that he’d assumed control of the local insurgency and was leading by example. He was quick and clever and capable of defending himself. If it got beyond his ability to handle, _then_ he would ask for help, but not a moment before.

“Some wall panels had fallen off a building.” he pouted, projecting embarrassment as best he could. “I hit them and skidded.”

Megatron chuckled, lifting a hand towards the camera, and Hot Rod tilted his helm sideways, spark aching at the fact his conjunx couldn’t be here caressing his plating for real. “Will I need to have someone chaperone you, when it’s time to teach Matchbox how to drive?”

The sparkling in his lap, having heard their name, sat up straighter and let out a cute little binary beep. Hot Rod chuckled and squeezed his arm around Matchbox’s middle again. “I’ll let you pick where I teach them, if that’ll make you feel better.”

“It will.” Megatron nodded. “Now, enough of such topics.” he waved his hand dismissively. “Matchbox, would you like to tell me about your day?”

Matchbox looked up at him, and Hot Rod filled his field with gentle encouragement. “Sire wants to hear about what you did today.” he shifted his arm to scritch one finger under Matchbox’s sparkling-soft chin. “Do you want to tell him?”

Matchbox nodded eagerly, and Hot Rod rested his hand on their middle as his sparkling began to babble excitedly. As soon as the Decepticons had a more secure base of operations, he was going to insist that he and Matchbox return home. He would miss Nyon, but Megatron clearly needed them at his side. Running a rebellion was a hard job, Hot Rod knew that firsthand now, and the Decepticons had significantly more opposition than Nyon’s insurgency. They were stronger together, and Hot Rod would not let Megatron handicap himself by keeping their family separated.

If it came to war, he would be there to put his conjunx back together again after every battle. To put all of them back together, if he could get himself a halfway decent room to turn into a medbay. Matchbox’s excited chattering trailed off, and Hot Rod bent to press a kiss to the top of his little helm. “Love you.” he cooed, and Matchbox repeated the underlying affectionate protoglyphs without hesitation.

When he straightened up again, Megatron was looking at them with the most openly adoring look Hot Rod had ever seen on his face, one reserved exclusively for him and Matchbox. “How much longer will we be staying here, Megs?” he asked, letting Matchbox grab and play with his hand. “I miss you.”

“And I, you.” Megatron sighed heavily. “Which is why I ask that you please remain in Nyon at least another stellar cycle. The Senate are after us, and should they find our base...”

“I know.” Hot Rod shivered, plating clamping down. Of all the mechs in the Decepticons, he was the one they could least risk being captured by the enforcers. Nearly two vorns out, and still the specter of Tyrest hung over him. He vented deeply, and shelved his simmering anger for later, when he had a target in front of him and, more importantly, no sparkling in his lap. “Be safe, Megatron.”

“And you, Hot Rod. I love you. Both of you.”

The call cut off before Hot Rod could return the sentiment, and Matchbox whined, tiny field trembling against Hot Rod’s own. “Sa-u?”

“Sire is a busy mech.” Hot Rod sighed, setting the pad over on the side of the berth. “But he loves you very much.” he scooped Matchbox up in his arms and cuddled his sparkling close, filling his field with warmth and comfort. “Now come on, it’s fuel time.”

“Foo!” Matchbox bapped his hands against Hot Rod’s chestplate again, distracted by the promise of energon, and Hot Rod chuckled. At least he was in a good mood tonight. Fuelling a fussy Matchbox made running from the enforcers look easy.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to any not-logged-in readers, but due to an ex who refuses to leave me alone I have had to disable anon comments. Kudos are still open though, and if you want to scream (or would like me to write a fic for you) come check me out on Pillowfort! No account required to get my discord, and I'm always happy to chat. [[Link](https://www.pillowfort.social/GemmaRose)]


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